Tradition and dress
A nations finesse
Symbolic in style
By a country mile
The drone of the pipes
Tartan clad
Bonnie on the girls
Proud on the lads
Highland dancers
In kilted skirts
Grooms at weddings
Kilt and dirk
But our Tartan and Pipes
Go back many years
Led soldiers into battles
See the enemy fear
After Culloden
Both were banned
A country naked
At the English hand
Our clans of many
In colours so grand
Woven by weavers
Our women's hands
All over the world
Scots are spread
Taking their Tartans
Of green, blue and red
It's a welcome reminder
To the kin of their past
Never forgotten
Designed to last
This plaid of cloth
History enriched
Scottish pride
In every stitch
And like our pipes
From centuries past
This Scottish of Scots
Are here to last
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php

My hands and feet are numb
for I am cold and I have no
home to give me warmth.
A home and warmth are two
things I search for that is why
people call me a bum.
I have not eaten but I have
prayed and my prayers have
not yet been answer for I have
not eaten in days.
So I'll just lay in my place of
sleep and pray once more as I
search for warmth, for I have
found my home, The streets.

Tea Leaves On The Bosphorus
Seated at a table by the stirring water,
My eyes absorb the shore of Asia.
Minerets and aged worn stone
Stand haphazardly along the banks.
Istanbul is a lady with secrets
She'll lure you with her unrevealed virgin beauty,
Then seduce you with her ancient lovers.
Grilled sardines filled my charger
Fish pulled from the strait just minutes before,
Lay garnished with parsley and mint .
Red pickled turnips and warm flat bread
Are the implements that help feed me
And scoop up the humus,
Turkish nourishment for my soul.
The empty plates are cleared by a handsome waiter
With dubious intentions I feared,
But I was flattered none the less.
A bowl of yogurt was placed before me,
And my admirer arrived with a comb of honey.
He held it high above the creamy cloud and let the heavy ochre
languidly pour atop the milky whiteness of delight.
After his seduction,he left me alone to my pleasure
As I lapped at the sweet and sour heavenly temptation,
that parted my lips and elevated my being.
As I recovered from my rapture, two eyes caught mine.
The heathen that destroyed my diet approached the table uninvited.
He pulled up a chair and sat down across from me.
In his hands, a cup.
He offered to tell me my future.
White, small, as fragile as an eggshell with the top lopped off.
Within was a dark tea with floating leaves.
In a chivalrous attempt at English conversation,
He handed me the libation and the offer to read the remains.
I, alone in a man's world, unmarried, and of a certain age,
Did not need encouragement and I accepted his offer.
I drained the tea in one gulp and returned it to his hands.
He placed the cup in one palm , then turned it upside down,
Allowing the remaining fluid to drip out around the cup and onto the table.
Once the cup was upright again he studied the leaves, then he spoke.
His voice was soft, at times , unintelligible
His reading was honest, and truthful, and painful.
His prophecy, amusing, and entertaining
His vision and it's accuracy were astounding.
Fifteen years later, the leaves delivered on their promise.
Long fluid lines inside the cup foretold of a marriage,
To a man who would cross a sea to find me.
Two shorter drippings were the children that now delight me.
The tea ring that he was able to complete around the cup ,
Was the warmth of a love that would soon envelop me.
Tea, anyone?

Feeling like a lodger
In my own home
Thankful for my music
And my new found roam
Families and communities
They are just so hard to find
But in April 2009
I found the most precious kind
I found the name amusing
So the button i clicked on to see
The layout was very inviting
Like an open door should be
For in a matter of minutes
On first uploading a poem
This Highlander was content
He had found a welcome home
So many lovely writers
Poets who share their bless
No longer this Scotsman is
The Man in the Wilderness
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/me.php

The sands on the beach
Are like the colour of her hair
As i sit by the ocean
All i can do is stare
The blue of the ocean water
Can never match her eyes
Despite our natures wishes
All she can do is try
The blue skies above her
Carpet her ceiling surround
Her posture of delight
In plentiful abound
Her body is slight and tanned
A joyous site to see
This blond beach lady in the sun
Gracing the land of the free
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/carolyn.php

The lake was still sleeping
a light mist rose above,
a weathered dock could be seen,
its aged wood; full of memories.
The air crisp, breeze light,
trees majestic; watching all.
Squirrels busy scampering,
as a flock of geese soared above.
Way over yonder
clear across the still lake,
shining brightly were yellow shutters,
on our cabin; our special place.
We had toiled the garden
planted yellow roses with great care,
we had painted the old wood shutters,
yellow paint; speckled our hair.
The roof we re-shingled,
one painstaking nail at a time,
we even counted the ouches;
when our hammers got out of line.
With nothing but smiles
on our weary, aching bodies,
we held hands, and went running,
into the still of the lake; giggling.
We swam out to the dock,
it was a race; he won,
my hand he took laughing;
as he quickly scooped me up.
Our toes dangled playfully
sending ripples in the lake,
as we gazed at our cabin;
yellow shutters; fresh with paint.
The trees swayed slightly
as if nodding with approval,
for our cabin by the lake,
was our private sacred jewel.
As we cuddled together
warmth filled our souls,
for our bright yellow shutters,
symbolized, our love's blossoming growth.
It was on this very dock,
air crisp, breeze light,
when he gave me a yellow rose;
and asked me to be his wife.

Amidst these inlets and islands
Lies a land of a patriot nation
Where clans decree their might
Together in mixed relation
From the Lowlands to the Highlands
Family names of a forgotten past
Deliver us to their present
For these surnames are here to last
Sunrises and sunsets have so greeted
Many a morn and an eve has been seen
To be born into such a nation
Through their eyes, you see just your dream
For to be born on the land of the heather
Through Glens of bracken and fern's
Birthed into one of their clans
Your first breath you have duly earned
Amidst these inlets and islands
Lies a land of a patriot nation
Where clans decree their might
Welcome to Alba, the ultimate creation
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/ed-unitsky.php

< Cascading lakes and streams
The loon stands out it seems
Minnesota's state bird
I know it must sound absurd
Adopted in nineteen sixty one
Wails and yodels heard under the sun
Black and white bearing red eyes
Wingspans five feet can make one cry
Body lengths up to three feet
Yet clumsy on lands and moss peat
They are high speed flyers
And great underwater divers
They can dive up to ninety feet
In pursuit of fish they want to eat
They are even on our license plates
An critical habitat drawn on metal slates
Twelve thousand of these unique birds
God that has to be a lot of turds
But for now I'll enjoy it's captured views
Of this beautiful loon and it's most colorful hues
Written By Katherine Stella
Entry For Mini - Blog Beautiful Bird Contest
By Constance ~ A Rambling Poet

I am the
Scot's thistle
The emblem of my
proud country it has
been our valiant
pride for so
many years
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The thistle has been the national emblem of Scotland
since the reign of Alexander III (1249 - 1286) and was
used on silver coins issued by James III in 1470.
According to the legend, an invading Norse army was
attempting to sneak up at night upon a Scots army
encampment. During this operation one barefoot Norseman
had the misfortune to step upon a Scots Thistle,
causing him to cry out in pain, thus alerting Scots
to the presence of the Norse invaders.
My entry into Deborah Guzzi's " Oh, what a Shape I'm in! " contest.
Not easy doing the above, i nearly went cross eyed.

The greatest holiday gift I ever received
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears
I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin
For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so
Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading
We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy
We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores
On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through
A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee
My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve
This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for
We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me
Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patrick_Dalzel-Job

Wood Fairies There Often Play
Deep in that far wooded glen
was a place made for men
Was not so easily found
complete with Nature sound
Comfort for man and beast
just a mile northeast
Great to rest my soul there
peacefulness makes me aware
Wood fairies there often play
stacking rocks in my way
A test to see me step aside
watching from where they hide
Daring to find resting sleep
my soul they try to keep
No malice,just a loving desire
to share their eternal fire
Each visit I must bid adieu
with a, "so sad to leave you"
My friends of the wooded glen
thanks for allowing me in
Always this is the sweet reply
see you in the by and by
You are most welcomed any time
our uniting is most sublime
Each Spring my trek begins
to again see my little friends
As I slowly walk my way in
I marvel at this far wooded glen
Robert J. Lindley, 05-23-2015

Together the Owl and the PusyCat were married
Then again sailed out over the deep blue seas
Searching forever for the great Land of Nod,
To the place where they could find true peace.
True peace, true peace… Where they could find true peace.
The love that twined forever within their hearts
They sought throughout all the wonderous lands
Going to the place where they would live in peace,
A place where true peace, rules and lives in the hearts of the land.
The land, the land… Where true peace lives in the heart of the land.
Alas, the love of the heart, though truly not easy to find…
Is easier to find than the love of peace, found throughout the land.
So it’s said they will continue to sail, until that day comes true,
And when they land for the final time, will be up to me and you.
Me and you, me and you… That day will be up to me and you.

So much I wanted to say. So much I wanted to shout.
It was like being trapped behind bars without a way
to get out.
My mind going wild with all these questions of why.
The only way to escape was to fall asleep or to cry.
What did I do so bad that made me have to pay?
My friends, my dreams, and my life was swepped away.
I know I can do it! I try and I try.
Nothing seems to get better. I sometimes wish
I would Die.
Starved for attention. I wanna talk to the world.
I just miss being loved. Miss the warmth of a girl.
Snickers and stairs is what my life has become.
I'm treated like I'm a kid, like I'm sick, or I'm dumb.
One day to the next. Life becomes work just to be alive.
I thank god for my blessings. I thank god I survived.
I finally see some improvement. More hope tickles
my brain.
It was worth all the time, all the tears, all the pain.
I awake with a smile and new hope to move on.
I did it! I did it! All those hard times are gone!

Tree of Life, stands in
A place completely free of
Water, and survives
This unique tree stands alone in the desert, about 2 kilometres (1.2 mi) from the Jebel
Dukhan, the highest point in Bahrain. It is considered a Natural Wonder.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/places.php

I shall live and die
By my own accord
Only my God may judge me
To him I've proved my worth
I am still here fighting
It matters not what for
On my ship of righteousness
Headed for waters unexplored
The clear night sky will darken
And the clouds seem ominous
I take heed to the sure signs
From them I won't digress
They are in the way of my dreams
And hopes that fill my sails
Like the wind from my heaven
Keeps my skin tough as nails
Evil comes to tempt me
I am not immune
Sometimes I play the hero
Other times I'm just a fool
Either way the choice is mine
I make it with my free will
For that's the gift he gave me
And for what I fight for still
The government is coming
To bring a chaos they call order
The line has been drawn
Between two sides there is a border
I feel myself being torn
To choose a fate in stone
Let this be a lesson
Why I wander on my own
Minds can be controlled
I see it every day
The weak wills fall like dominos
That lie littering my way
An obstacle before me
I iron will it to the end
And when the devil comes
to dance with me
I have already started to transcend
into everything around
I am the universal man
my true form I shall disguise
I am hiding it from this great Satan
they say will come for my demise
I know he will find me
maybe he already has
in a long gone nightmare
that my soul he stole at last
if I remember correctly
I can't say I recall
ever escaping his grip
or did it ever touch me
at all?

The wind did stir the thought in kind wanting - for if she knew my soul, just a spark
of it, I would be a rich man...
So long this ribbon of love that flows over the rocks of age and distant torment...
The gate keepers sit alone watching, waiting for the violators who dare not call
mundane theirs...
It is those shackles which bind misguided dreams that which make fertile ground for
the barkers at the door, for what else does one need to grey the vision and dull
delight?
You carry the scent of the well-traveled said the withered old man - I too know your
pain, that which comes from never knowing home - those of us who seek blindly
that which the world cannot give - home is not a place but a thought in time and
nothing more than a stop to rest your ambition...
Cry only for only those who cannot hear you, for it is selfish to do otherwise and
seek home in the gentle embraces of those that know you...
Be kind to those who would bite you, for in doing so it will bring light to a dark path...
AND
Always rejoice in life - it pisses them off and helps them to see the tragic flaw of
their diluted beliefs...

In 1296
Under Edward the first
Our destiny was stolen
My country cursed
In 1328
There were talks of it's return
For six more centuries
We would wait and yearn
On Christmas day
In 1950
Four Scottish students
Decided to shift thee
A plot was in motion
To take back our stone
Return it to Scotland
For it should never have roamed
From West Minster Abbey
Our stone was retaken
Returned back up north
To a country forsaken
They returned to the church
This great stone of the Scots
To Arbroath Abbey
From a time so fraught
The police in London
Were informed of it's location
It was eventually returned
To the original thieving nation
In 1996
In a symbolic response
To the dissatisfaction of Scots
Our political taunts
For on November the 15th
1996
We met on our border
Our eyes transfixed
Of red sandstone
With iron rings
For upon who sits
A new monarch it brings
This block of stone
And where it lies
It's in Edinburgh castle
Where our proud saltire flies
Back home
Where it was meant to be
Historical Scotland's
Stone of Destiny
Stolen by Scotland's children for the future of Scotland's children.
There is talk of it's return south of the border for the next coronation?
I very much doubt us Scot's will tolerate this request.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland.php

I sit and pause, looking at the sky blue ceiling above me. White vapour cotton wool clouds
gently float like water lilies on an upside down pond. My humble seat, an igneous rock
from the Devonian period. A glaciation past has moulded this comfort to rest this weary
climber. I am in fortunate delight as this skyscraper of old can turn nasty with nature.
These marvels can unite and lure unsuspected hikers, and draw them into a weather world
they have never known. The gulley's and faces of this quite wonderful Munro hide
challenges and dangers for all who dare climb. Many have been lost as they become
disorientated, as natures weather closes in.
The ascent route to the summit on a day like today is quite wonderful. The beauty of the
glens, with their sporadic mix of andesite and basaltic lava mountains, rival many a range
on our fine planet. Many colours explode on the surrounding canvas. Greens and beige's,
greys mingling with red granite masses. Screes are in evidence, a sign of the range ageing
as natures seasons take their toll. Plant life carpets the slopes, where grasses of sorts
mingle with the purple and white heather. Ferns from a prehistoric age fan out catching
the breeze, like Sea´ ferns´ in the ocean.
As i climbed, at various intervals i would close my eyes and listen to the calls of the
wild. The sporadic bleating of sheep, as if echoing through the glens. Crows and their
hooded cousins fly sorties looking for carrion of such. Suddenly they scatter, as royalty
makes a welcomed appearance. As majestic as the King of the mountains can be, a Golden
Eagle glides on the thermals. His subjects looking on from a distance, for fear of
angering him. Rabbits, lizards and even sheep and lambs, bow down in whatever chambers of
safety allows them. As graceful as he arrived, he leaves. Slowly but slowly, the lookouts
of the species declare their haven a safe zone.
This climb has certainly given me a thirst, as the thinned mountain air leaves me tired.
Nearby a small stream offers a weary climber a much needed tonic. This pure fresh
translucent chemical substance quenches my crave, with a gentle splash over my sun beaten
face, i feel refreshed to a point.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-3.php

There is an island
In the Pacific ocean
Surrounded by blues
In various motions
The blue of the water
Reflects from the sky
Turquoise and dark
Either makes me sigh
With mountains of lush green
In sloping canvas
Varieties aplenty
Trees and grasses
Species so different
Grace this land
Where they have thrived for years
As it has never been manned
Golden beaches
Glitter her coast
Where the blue waves caress
Its where i sigh the most
Coconut palm trees
Figs, berries and roots
In glorious harvest
Natures fine fruits
Please close your eyes
And join me there
As you open your eyes
All you can do is stare
Where is this island
Do you all want to hear
Its in the Pacific Ocean
Oh how i wish i was near
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature-6.php

Along a forest path that few can see,
Just as the sun is setting in the West,
With owls and ancient oaks for company,
I wander in my solitary quest.
In shadowed dusk the world is at her best --
When lacy lichen clings to cooling stone --
The feathered robin turns toward her nest,
And in the stillness I am all alone.
There is within these woods an ancient tree
Whose roots provide a peaceful place to rest;
Like gentle fingers, they encircle me
When by my thoughts I am too much oppressed.
Then I am of a sudden joy possessed,
Which I claim quickly for my very own;
I feel the love of Life within my breast,
And in the stillness I am all alone.
And in that place, I ponder silently --
Admire the tiny toadstools neatly dressed
In spots and colors, sitting quietly,
And cannot help but by them be impressed.
The rights of others they do not contest,
Nor under worthless burdens grieve or groan;
I understand their tiny lives are blest,
And in the stillness I am all alone.
So when dark doubts and fears have reached a crest,
And deep despair has pierced me to the bone,
I find that path and grant my heart's request;
And in the stillness I am all alone.

One of the most positive writes i have witnessed to date
Was written today and well worth the wait
An awesome Quatrain, by this Devonshire poet
If you have read her past writes, you would certainly know it
What we see in our world now, is what she wants us to see
Dinosaur remains are an example to me
This beautiful planet will gladly reveal
As she shares her histories, our mysteries reveal
If we let her breathe, sigh and flourish
She may be more giving, as we help her re-nourish
And this write will be remembered for its visionary
And her mysteries will be our history
Inspired by " Stunning Revelations from Ancient Maps "
By Carolyn Devonshire
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature3.php

White blossoms of the Mountain Laurel
Contrasted to the waxy green leaves
Nestled under trees along the creek
Showing some of the beauty of spring
Snuggled on a blanket close to the edge
Enjoying the music that nature makes
Chirping of birds, no no not a word said
Rustle of leaves, buzz, buzzing of bees
Babbble of creek, splash of the deer's feet
Joy, oh, joy for the outdoor cheer
Wishing that we could share this time
This time of the year

I went to Georgia without my bonjo in my hand
I knew it would be great after I landed and took a stand
I told them my name and they asked, "What's your fame?"
I reached for my muse and turned it loose like a goose
They straightened their ties and said “O’ me, O’ my!”
“We made a mistake about this poetic rhyming guy!”
Someone handed me a bonjo and they all joined the tango
My muse had its way and we had a wonderful stay
As we departed for home they started to sing,
“Hurry back poet, may your muse give you wings!”

Gravity enters my thoughts, what ever goes up has to come down. As i start my descent from
the summit of this giant of the Grampians. My journey down is so different to the ascent.
Clouds build for the evening mass. The breeze has magically transformed into a cutting
wind, as the tallest of ferns whistle a goodbye.
The melting snows still show their march, small waterfalls run into fast flowing burns.
Lambs now hug close to their mothers, its as if they know nightfall is upon them. The
quietness of the glens are a memory now as modern mans noise appears from the distance.
The local mountaineer team are on the ascent on a training exercise. These unpaid
volunteers put their own safety in danger to save others who are in danger. The orangy
glow of street lights confirm my descent is complete. I head back home, tired, weary from
my day on the highest mountain in my homeland. But so alive in the joys and sights that it
allowed me to share on this day.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-3.php

We photographed this shoot
Against frosted glass
In the shape of hearts
That captured her class
Her long blond hair
Catches the light
Her curvaceous shape
Delights
Peachy skin
Immaculate pose
She looks
My love for her grows
White silk robe
In midriff drape
This vista, my view
I am left agape
Our shoot closes
The applause we take
As i turn to my Tink's
My darling, its you who makes
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-10.php